Amazing Story of Twins

Amazing Story of Twins

(A family drama)

By Atmakur Vamanacharya 

The superfast express bound for Bengaluru arrived at Raghavpur station at 7:00 p.m. For three seconds, the lights went out, causing the passengers to become uneasy. Amid the crowd, Pratap Chandra, a progressive farmer and his twenty-five‑year‑old son Supreet, who was seeking a job, boarded bogie S‑6 and took berths 35 and 36.

As they climbed in, Pratap froze. Sitting a few rows ahead was a young man who looked exactly like Supreet—except for a scar on the left side of his forehead; Supreet’s scar was on the right. Pratap’s heart raced. He had spent twenty‑five years longing for the twin he had lost at birth.

Varsha had given birth to twins twenty‑five years earlier. On the day of delivery, one baby had been kidnapped. The police circulated alerts but found no clues. Supreet had learned about the kidnapping when he was eight. Now old memories bubbled up in Pratap as he pushed through the carriage, determined to meet the stranger.

“Wait here,” he told Supreet. “I’ll be back.”

“Good luck, Papa,” Supreet said.

It took five minutes to find the man’s seat. Pratap reached the row—but the young man was gone. Frustration and doubt flooded him. Had he imagined the resemblance? Had the man changed bogies or left to see someone on the platform? He questioned other passengers; nobody had seen him.

As Pratap turned to return disappointed, a passenger handed him a diary that had been left on the seat. Inside the first page was a profile and a photograph. The name read "Suraj"; the parents were listed as Shobhana and Devraj. Pratap showed it to Supreet.

“What a coincidence,” Supreet said, eyes wide. “The date, time, place and hospital of birth match mine. He was born just five minutes before me. We both did well in school and university.”

Pratap’s voice trembled with certainty. “There’s no doubt. Suraj is your brother. And look—his adoptive mother, Shobhana, was a staff nurse at the hospital and attended Varsha’s delivery. It seems she kidnapped him.”

“Then let’s find him,” Supreet said.

They slept fitfully that night. At 6:00 a.m., the train reached Bengaluru. Passengers rushed for the exit. Supreet suddenly spotted a familiar profile—three people ahead.

“Papa, that’s Suraj! Stop him!”

Pratap pushed through, but the young man vanished into the crowd. They followed the flow out of the station, searching, and eventually decided to have breakfast before heading to Siddharth College for Supreet’s interview for an English lecturer post.

As they left the hotel, the same young man started his motorcycle and rode off. Once again they had missed him.

“We’ll meet him,” Supreet said, determined.

Supreet sat for his interview in a crowded auditorium while Pratap waited anxiously outside. Suddenly the doors opened and a tall, confident candidate entered—Suraj, the scar on his left forehead unmistakable. The room hushed; the committee stared in astonishment.

“Who are you?” the chairman asked.

Supreet stepped forward. “Sir, I am Supreet Chandra from Raghavpur. This is my twin brother, Suraj. We were separated at birth and have found each other after twenty‑five years, just a few minutes before.”

Suraj held up the diary. “I never knew my real family until today. Fate has brought us here.”

The committee exchanged looks. “Both of you are outstanding candidates with excellent records. We cannot split destiny. Supreet, you will join our Raghavpur college. Suraj, you will serve here in Bengaluru.”

A large number of candidates left disappointed after knowing the selections.

Applause filled the hall. Pratap wiped tears from his eyes as joy and relief settled over him. That evening, the three of them returned to Raghavpur.

At the farmhouse doorway, Varsha stood trembling. When she saw both sons together, she cried, “My children!” and embraced them. The family, broken by fate, was whole again.